


Angel On His Shoulder

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Priests, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Catholic Guilt, Corruption, Dom/sub Undertones, Inspired by Fanfiction, LMAO, M/M, Oops, Oral Sex, Painplay, Praise Kink, Priest Kink, Religious Conflict, Sappy, The Scarf, Tropes, priest!Credence, sinner!Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Credence has been a man of God nearly all his life, and nothing and no one could cause him to stumble.....Until a man in a perfectly tailored suit walked in, and turned his world upside down. ~Graves isn't a religious man, but he could almost believe in a higher power when he meets the young priest with a face like an angel.....How is he to go about turning him away from the light?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClutchHedonist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClutchHedonist/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Lord's Work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8635411) by [betts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts). 



> hi hi hi hi so at long last here is the sinful piece of filth i've been hyping and promising.  
> it is VERY MUCH inspired by the Lord's Work, hence the dedication. i made the cover for this ficlet before i'd even started writing it, and then was up til midnight the night before my road trip to write the first 3k for it.  
> and here we are.  
> i mean we all know why this had to be made >.>

The first time Graves went to the church, it was on a dare. Tina had bet him he couldn’t get through one long winded and blustering sermon in the nearest Catholic Church and he said he would, just watch him. She told him to bring a pamphlet with a priest’s signature back and she would know if he cheated.

Inside the building without the crowds, it was easy to see why a place like it could be called beautiful, calming and peaceful. But when the parishioners started spilling into the church, Graves felt his skin begin to crawl with more than mild annoyance. He hated crowds, and he hated most people in general, not the social type at all. Tina Goldstein from work was his only true friend, and she was also one of the few who never got intimidated by his normal stern and no bullshit attitude.

Once the priests began the sermon, he sat back and listened, trying not to check his watch too often. By the time it had ended and people were filtering out for the confessional booths, he was itching to leave, but he still needed a signature on his faded and cheaply printed flier.

He wandered down the side hall, towards the first booth he saw, and he stopped on the side where the door was firmly closed, reaching out to knock swiftly.

The door opened slowly, and a pair of big brown eyes blinked out at him,

“Can I help you sir?”

It was a priest, judging by the white of his collar against his pale neck and his black robes, but he looked too young to be one of the starchy types. He would be perfect.

“I need a signature for a friend. Do you mind helping me out?”

The priest nodded, looking a bit confused,

“All right, yeah sure.”

Graves held out the piece of paper and produced a pen from his inside jacket pocket, passed it to the younger man. However when his hand met the priest’s he felt a spark of heat dance over his skin.

Staring would have been very inappropriate, so he merely snuck glances at him while his head was ducked and he was unable to look back.

“Here you go sir.”

He handed it back after signing with a mild flourish, and Graves smiled,

“Thank you, Father?”

He wasn’t certain of the proper address for such a man, and when he nodded, he felt a bit of relief.

“Indeed. You look new, have you been to our parish before?”

Graves shook his head,

“First time. First time in a catholic church really.”

First and last he thought with a touch of amusement, until the younger man pressed forward, stepped out of the booth and straightened up, reaching for Graves’ hand, his face alight,

“That’s wonderful. Thank you for coming to visit us today, I hope to see you again next week.”

Graves took it, and gripped it firmly, feeling coldness from the priest’s hand seep into his warmer and larger hand,

“Sure yeah. You’re welcome.”

It felt strange, thanking the priest for being so friendly, but he’d always had a negative association with most religions, until today. He wondered how the younger man could be so cold even in robes, but perhaps they weren’t as heavy as they looked.

“Safe travels on your journey home.”

The priest smiled again, and then dropped his hand, swiftly walking towards the sanctuary, perhaps to greet other members, and Graves left out the side door, quick as he could.

He couldn’t wait to shove the pamphlet in Tina’s face and see her look of surprise.

He hadn’t lied either. He would come back, if only to see _that_ priest.

The only unfortunate thing was just how out of his league he was, already married basically, to the biggest man on campus, or earth.

God himself.

*

When Credence saw the man in the sharp suit that seemed to look far more expensive than even the stained glass windows above the chapel, he wondered how he’d gotten so lost as to end up in Saint Laurent.

Further noting how out of place he seemed, he had originally planned to approach him and greet him, do the whole ‘welcome to our parish’ shtick, but the man had ended up finding _him_ , and asked him a most peculiar favor. He needed his signature, for some reason, upon the weekly flier. It was something always handed out, whether to new people or returning members, and Credence enjoyed reading through it occasionally, when it mentioned the upcoming children’s birthdays, or wedding announcements.

The man was polite, but rather icy, introverted in his manner, and Credence suspected perhaps he was not comfortable with so many people he didn’t know. He could hardly blame him, when he’d first begun his training in a new church, he’d felt out of place for almost a month. Until he learned all the names of the people he regularly came in contact with, then he felt more at ease.

Naturally, he tended to keep a look out for new people, and the man in the suit had been no different.

Except he was.

Credence had never seen a man he would consider handsome enough to draw his attention, after all, beauty was in the eye of the beholder and God was the creator of all such beauty.

He’d grown up in the church, and from a young age been told his desires were shameful and wrong, and he needed to control his thoughts and feelings towards the opposite and similar sex if he was to live a virtuous life, so naturally as soon as he could, he began his study to become a priest, the most selfless and most virtuous of professions. Where one could consider themselves faithful and married to the Lord.

Anything else might have put him in too much contact with sinful people who would cause him to stumble, whether by accident or by design or for their own amusement.

The man did return the next week, and Credence was unable to think of anything but how he had spoken and looked at him. Not with pity or distaste, for a man of his profession was often mocked or ridiculed, even inside the church walls, most times behind his back, but the man had been friendly and polite even though clearly uncomfortable.

He nodded towards him, and received a wry smile and a wink in return, which he almost didn’t know how to process. Winking was seen as a flirtation, usually between two people who were interested in sexual contact or some manner of sinful behavior at some point in the relationship.

Could it be considered a greeting of a friendly sort?

He wasn’t sure.

When it came time to proceed to work in the confessional booth, he was surprised, and almost pleased, if that wouldn’t be too close to a sin, to see the man follow the small smattering of people who went to that hallway, instead of just proceeding out the doors, and on with their day.

“Hello. Please begin whenever you are ready.”

He leaned against the back of his chair, stiff, wooden, and there was no cushion under him, so it really only hurt his back to hunch in there.

“Father, forgive me, I have sinned. It has been twenty years since my last confession.”

Credence smiled to himself,

“Well, it’s a first step in the right direction, you coming here, and choosing to confess your sins.”

The man chuckled, and the sound jolted Credence, heat warming throughout his cheeks and his ears, making him eternally grateful for the separation and near invisibility.

“Oh Father, if I was to tell you all my sins, you’d be here long past your opening hours. I think I’ll just start with this week, since I first came here.”

Credence blinked, and then looked over, stunned to catch a glimpse of the man’s hands folding over his legs, fabric of his suit evident even through the screen, it wasn’t just _anyone_ , and it was _him_.

He inhaled slowly and tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound too prying or personal,

“How have you been struggling with sin this week? Even after visiting with us? Would you like me to provide some guidance?”

“Oh yes. Because the fact is, I’ve messed up quite a lot. I’ve developed an interest in someone I can never follow through with.”

Credence found himself flooded with disappointment, but he wasn’t sure why,

“Unavailable? Are they already involved with someone else? Married?”

The man clicked his tongue,

“Not quite. Well yes, in a way. But somehow, I can’t get them out of my mind. Tell me Father, what should I do?”

Credence’s words died in his throat, as he tried to imagine what it would be like to be attracted to someone he could never be with. Then again, as he was, he could never entertain thoughts about _anyone_ , so in a way, they were in the same situation.

But not at all.

“Try to find something else to focus your energy and effort upon. Do you have any hobbies? Like reading a good book, finding a nice place to go for a walk… take up an instrument, learning a new language…”

He trailed off, feeling foolish.

“I already go to the gym once a day usually, can’t read music, and can’t quite play anything with more than two strings, so I’m not sure any of those ideas could help me too much. But I appreciate the help. Now, tell me Father, how do I make myself right with God?”

Credence paused only a moment, before reciting the proper amount of Hail Mary’s and Lord’s Prayers the man should complete.

“Thank you Father. I trust that when I see you next week, I will be a better man.”

Credence said good day to him and watched him leave out the door, but something lingered in the air, that was spicy, smoky almost, and he wondered if the man had forgotten to confess another sin, the vice of cigarettes. But it was not his place to inquire about sins, only to listen, and forgive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember this is 100% inspired by The Lord's Work, and this chapter it shows. <3

The man with eyes like the night and a smile like sin had now been coming to church for almost a month and Credence thought that he would like to know him better than as a priest and parishioner, if only he weren't sworn to uphold a strict set of vows.

But what he saw every week had begun to transform itself in his mind, coming to him in dreams at night. Unbidden visions of the man, commanding him to do wicked things, and he could never help but comply, always begging, always desperate to obey. 

He would wake from these shameful things and immediately pray for forgiveness at once, even as his body thrummed with arousal and not even a cold shower could stave off the heat.

His voice would stutter over his sermons when the man caught his eye mid-sentence and he would duck his head down to breathe, slow his speech, allowing himself catch up, and remain calm.

The confessional booth was looming ahead of him again and he straightened himself, and proceeded forward, closing the door behind him, ensuring his robes did not catch in the latch like they had once before.

He had only been sitting inside his side of the booth for a moment, not yet managed a greeting to the parish member even, and his senses were instantly alight, as an alluring and familiar scent drifted through his nose, hot wiring the center of his memory,

"Mister Graves, again?"

He sounded accusing he knew, but the answering chuckle was unapologetic and he ached to be able to live like that. Not wallowing in sin, no, but certainly with more freedom than he had ever known.

"Yes Father, it's me again, the avid sinner. Come to beg your forgiveness."

The man was mocking Credence with his filthy words and sharp tongue.

Now the images in his mind had spurred into overdrive, and his knuckles turned white on his bible as he tried to clear his head.

"It is not I who can alone grant that. But please, tell me your sins.  Have you still been harboring indecent feelings for the one you know you cannot pursue?”

Graves leaned closer, cheek almost pressed to the screen separating them and Credence gravitated to it also, craving the forbidden closeness, 

"I have. The dreams are getting worse. I find I often have to finish myself off in the shower in the morning before I can continue with my day, go to work and so forth."

Credence finds himself frozen, unable to move, to think, to do more than await the man’s next words,  his ear so close to his lips if not for the screen he could be kissed.

"Does that shock you father? Sins of the flesh I mean."

Credence blinks and tries to remember his work, his life, and his vows.

“Of course not. Is that all you have committed this week?"

Graves chuckled again, low in his throat, and Credence was once again captivated,

"Not at all. I find myself constantly returning to a congregation I despise, merely to be able to steal time in the presence of the one I cannot have."

Credence swore he could feel his heart beating in his throat and he shifted a hand from his bible to clutch the crucifix in his pocket,

"So why stay? Why keep coming back?"

Graves sighed,

"I'm afraid if I ask for what I truly want, I will be denied. That is far worse than never knowing if the feelings could be returned, don't you think, father?"

Still a mocking tone, but now his voice had lowered. More soothing, more seductive, and Credence wanted to drown in it. Bottle it, shower beneath its tones.  That led to wicked images of the man himself using said tongue on Credence's skin, and body, and he shivered.

"Is there any hope for me Father?" Credence's voice had died in his throat, and Graves continued, "Can I be saved from my sins?"

"Of course, all of us are God’s children and we need only seek the light to find salvation, ask for the lord to forgive you, in your heart and if you mean it, he will. For the time being, go home and say a Hail Mary and the Lord's Prayer."

Graves nodded and thanked him, opened his side of the booth, and was gone. But when Credence glanced over, he noticed the man had left behind not just a lingering intoxicating scent of his cologne.

Credence only noticed it when he left his own side of the booth and spotted something gleaming in the late morning sunshine spilling through the stained glass and throwing rainbows across the surface closest to it.

It was a cream colored silk scarf.

He moved to retrieve it quickly before another parishioner could come along and spot it. The fabric was cool and soft against his fingers, and if he held it close, he could definitely smell Graves' cologne on it.

He must have forgotten it, in a hurry to return home and seek penance from the Lord.

That was what Credence told himself. When he used the office ledger with the private information of the returning parishioners to obtain Graves' address, it was because he didn't want to bother anyone else with the task of returning the object.

It would be his honor to visit the man and bring him back the scarf.

*

When Graves had just finished climbing out of the shower, his second of the day, and he could hear his doorbell ringing.

Who on earth could be at his door at two in the afternoon on a Sunday?

He tucked a towel around his hips and made his way to his front door, peering through the peephole to find a slim figure.

Clad in all black, but for the kiss of white at their neck, their collar.

He had long hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and gorgeous cheekbones.

Graves smirked to himself in delight.

It was that delicious morsel of a priest he'd given his confession to, nearly four times now.

"Yes? Can I help you Father?"

He called through the door, not sure he knew quite how to receive such an interesting and unexpected guest.

"Mister Graves?  It's Credence, from the Saint Laurent church. You forgot your scarf this morning. I wanted to return it to you safely."

Graves saw only creamy silk as the priest held up the object to the lens and he sighed.

How had he been so careless? That had come from a dear friend halfway around the world and he'd nearly lost it.

"Of course. Thank you."

Graves began undoing the locks and when he pulled open the door, the priest moved back to look at him, expectant at first, and then his eyes widened as he took in his appearance, dressed in as little as he was.

"Please, come in, I was just about to have a late lunch. You're welcome to join me."

Graves turned away from the door and walked towards his bedroom to commence dressing, hoping the priest would accept his offer, and sit down.

He looked back and saw the younger man out of the corner of his eye, looking nervous, but taking a hesitant seat on the couch in his living room.

"Did you have a lot of other sinners to pardon today Father?"

He called out, returning to his bed, where upon he'd laid out a pair of black lounge pants and white long sleeved shirt.

"Oh, no. Not many."

The priest sounded almost unsure, and Graves smiled to himself. Not wanting to tattle on the others he supposed. How noble.

He walked back out to the kitchen once fully dressed and resumed preparing his lunch, egg salad sandwiches with a chilled bottle of wine he had let sit overnight in the fridge.

"Do you, or can you drink Father?"

The priest shook his head and got to his feet, somewhat following Graves over, pausing and waiting at the table across from the kitchen counter,

"No, uh, that is, I don’t, but I can. And please, there’s no need to call me _Father_ outside of the church. Call me Credence."

Graves remembered he'd used his name, introducing himself as such only moments before and he nodded,

"Certainly Credence, I apologize."

After testing the syllables on his tongue, he decided he liked it. It was definitely a name with religious origins, but no less beautiful, fitting for such a creature as he was.


	3. Chapter 3

Credence's mind was running into overdrive, trying to decide just how blasphemous he was to be that day. First he'd listened to the man speak of defiling his body with pleasurable thoughts and acts that seemed to be partly inspired by his immoral desires for someone he knew he should not want, and then he'd proceeded to take the man’s scarf, practically using it as a bargaining chip to worm his way into the man’s home.

The plan had been to drop in, have some idle chatter, and place the article of clothing in the man’s hand, and be on his way. So what if he would have tried to ensure their hands made actual contact and then returned to his own home to dream of a world where such desires of his own did not make him a failure in the eyes of God?

But the man had not made that easy to accomplish, first off coming to the door of his apartment naked but for a towel, and Credence's eyes had dropped down against his will to take in the miles of glistening skin and exposed muscles and strong looking arms and legs and the line from his navel to where the towel began to disrupt his sight was far too alluring.

He'd nearly forsaken his vows at that alone, and then the man had invited him in.

Asked him to dine with him.

Such kindness and hospitality outside the church was unheard of in Credence's life. 

As he waited for the man's return, he'd rudely looked around his home, much as he could, and then a further travesty had occurred. He'd wandered too close to the bedroom door, which had not been properly secured, and seen the man from behind, completely naked as he began to dress.

Improper, immoral, and he thought he would have died to see it again.

The man, Graves, came out and resumed the sort of idle chatter Credence could manage without a thought for what sins he had helped him commit.

Unknowingly of course. So it wasn't truly anyone but Credence’s fault. 

Why was God testing him like this? Why? To what end?

He asked that the man call him by his given name and fought back another shiver as it passed through his lips, and the smile that next curved them after was truly a work of the devil. Or maybe he was allowing himself to be swallowed alive by sin?

"How much wine would you prefer? I always start with a full glass, but if you're not used to it I can do two fingers."

The rim of the bottle was poised above a pair of glasses, and Credence blinked, trying to clear the haze of his vision, looking properly at the man as he stood in his modest kitchen.

He was wearing a white shirt so tight it fitted across his muscles as they flexed with his movements, revealing them almost as obscenely as if he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all.

Credence gulped. 

He’d had wine before only at communion and it was always one or two sips, but it would be all right.

"A full glass is fine for me; I've no other appointments for today."

The second he had said that it felt like a mistake, but Graves was nodding and completing the pour for them both, before turning around and presenting twin plates of food, perfectly cut sandwiches with crisp looking pickles sliced beside them and of course, a bowl of potato chips, presumably for  them to share.

The food was simple. But to Credence it could have been a king’s feast.

"Please, sit.

Graves was motioning him to the chair across from him, wine glass held easily in one hand, his eyes locked onto Credence's own.

"Thank you." Credence managed, from between parched lips, reaching for the wine glass gratefully and to quench his thirst.

That was a mistake for certain.

He knew he had skipped breakfast originally for good reason, to have more time to prepare and rewrite parts of his sermon, but now, the sweet and cold wine went straight to his bloodstream, making him light headed and dizzy, as if he was drunk on Graves' presence.

Maybe he was.

The sandwich was delicious too, as well as the savory pickle, every bite a crunch and further complimented by the chips and wine, and Credence felt an easy contentment sliding over his body as the meal began to wind down, and though he knew he shouldn't have, he also accepted Graves' offer to accompany him to the balcony for an after meal cigarette.

He’d been right about the man having a vice, and in fact, he seemed to have many. Drinking and smoking were just the milder ones. The way he could feel the man looking at him told him perhaps that was yet another. Attraction of the wrong sort.

Of course Credence didn't smoke, he just watched as Graves did, and made simple conversation.

Until it no longer was.

"So, tell me, have you ever wanted to spend extra time with one of you parishioners? Off the clock sorts of time?"

Credence's eyes zeroed in on Graves' hand, his fingers that had the cigarette trapped between them, before he would bring it to his lips, and draw a long breath, then exhaled it slowly, smoke curling around the air nearest Credence's face.

Instead of choking, he wanted to inhale deeper.

"I don’t know what you mean." He said finally, voice a bit rough, throat suddenly dry. Maybe it was the wine, or something else.

Maybe it was the fact Graves had moved closer and was almost done with his cigarette, now he was flicking it away, and turning his full attention to Credence.

"I think you know exactly what I mean. That's why you're here, isn’t it? You know I've been watching you, wanting to get to know how you worked. Wondered what went on inside that pretty head of yours..."

Graves hand was on his face now, fingers grazing his jaw line, thumb brushing over his cheek, and Credence was once again frozen unsure if he was simply imaging this all in a kind of fever dream.

Was he about to wake up to find Graves' scarf wrapped around one hand, pressed against his shame, and the other in his mouth, halting the indecent moans that were sure to escape him in the dark of night when he resorted to sin?

Graves kept his hand there, and Credence nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his other one pulling one of his own hands to the man’s mouth, and as he watched, stunned, the man placed an open mouthed kiss on his palm, before licking a path to his index finger, tongue swirling around the tip of the digit, capturing Credence's attention for the moment, and he could feel heat pooling in his stomach, and a shiver crawled down his spine, as the moment began to drag on, Graves' pulled away and spoke, 

"Mmm. I wonder how the rest of you might be. Tell me to stop, and I will, you can walk right out that door, and just pretend I never asked you to break your vows."

As it was, Credence had been reconsidering everything he'd ever done on his spiritual journey and how it never made him feel as holy as Graves did just by a few innocent touches. The warmth curling up his spine was not from just the wine, he decided.

Well, perhaps not so innocent anymore, as the hand on his face shifted, and Graves was pressing his thumb over his mouth , parting his lips and teeth gently, slowly, while his own wicked tongue still continued to tease Credence's hand, fingers being licked clean of any remaining salt from the potato chips.

"I, uh..."

There was a roaring in his ears, as the wine seemed to crash over any remaining barriers, reasons to say no.

Graves smirked and dropped his hand from his mouth, giving him only one thing to focus on, the way he was looking at him, like some sort of caged animal, or prey waiting to be devoured. Oh how he wanted to be devoured by Graves.

So much.

So much it hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm >.>


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a slut for feedback what can i say? and this story is complete...as far as i can tell, so regular updates yo.
> 
> also im sad b/c the 4 of the 5 WIP's im following have not updated in 2+ days :/

Graves looked at Credence and could see that the wine was affecting him unduly; he wasn’t as talkative as he’d been, and in fact he looked rather lost in thought.

Or perhaps, lost in thinking about what he’d like to give into with him.

“I don’t want you to stop.” Credence finally said, after Graves had moved back a step, preparing to go back inside, maybe light another cigarette and try and distract himself from how incredibly arousing it had been watching the priest react to his attentions.

He stopped and turned around; finding the priest in question staring at him, in what could only be called a longing manner, eyes wide, and full lips parted slightly.

“I thought you were about to just run off, considering your silence.”

Graves said, a smirk curving its way onto his face, and Credence sighed,

“I just know what I want. For certain, I know I never want you to stop touching me. Er… that is…”

Graves moved back towards him, and the priest retreated, until there was no more porch for him to do so.

“You’ve been enjoying our game of cat and mouse have you?”

Credence nodded.

“Do you even know what the end of the game traditionally is?”

The cat consumes the mouse.

Graves was right in front of him, so close he could see his pulse jumping on his neck, and he could smell the fresh scent of the soap he used, probably some horrible bulk stuff from a minimart.

Still, he was beautiful.

He reached up to push back a strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail, and Credence shuddered, before leaning into his palm, which he left at his cheek, and he couldn’t help ducking down and capturing his lips in a quick kiss. Just a slow slide of his mouth on the priest’s, and he tasted like sunshine ought to.

It had been all he’d been thinking about, since they first met near the confessional booth.

Credence let out a whimper and his hands pressed against Graves’ chest, so he pulled back, stopping things at once.

“I’m sorry, too fast?”

Credence shook his head,

“Not that, but I don’t think I want to do this out here, where someone might see…”

Graves shook his head,

“Of course. You know you don’t have to be ashamed of this? It’s perfectly all right. Despite what you may have been told.”

Credence nodded fervently,

“I know. I once attended a wedding of two women. I just… don’t want people watching us. I prefer you all to myself…”

He looked shocked at the strength of his own confession, and Graves couldn’t help smiling at that, pulling the sliding door to the balcony shut behind them, and drawing the curtain.

“Oh keep that up, and you’ll go places…”

Credence was standing by his couch now, and so, in keeping with the spirit of the game, he stalked over to him, watching as the priest retreated slowly, but less deliberately to the other side of the room, between the kitchen and his bedroom door.

“I can think of only one place I’d like.”

Graves chuckled,

“And where is that?”

“Here.”

Credence suddenly stepped closer and Graves thought he saw his hands shaking as he reached for him, letting the younger man place one palm on his chest and the other on his shoulder, before leaning up to press his mouth on Graves’ again.

It was gentle, so soft and tentative and Graves realized with a start that perhaps just seconds before he’d stolen the man’s first kiss and now he was trying to imitate what he’d experienced, albeit with less intense need and desperation.

But then there was a moan as Graves brought a hand to wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and another to his waist, and the kiss did become a bit rougher.

He nearly grinned in delight.

*

Credence couldn’t believe what he was doing, letting the man kiss him like he was some kind of wanton whore, when he was supposed to be a man of God!

Whether it was the alcohol flowing through his veins, setting him alight with confusion and long buried arousal, or some kind of devilish influence he did not know. But he _did_ know he did not want Graves to think he was uninterested, just cautious, and wondering how many prayers he’d need to say to wash his soul clean of this transgression.

He broke the kiss to lean his forehead against Graves’ until he had caught his breath, and Graves pulled his hand back from his neck to caress his cheek, so gentle and so tender Credence thought he might cry.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded, and then choked on his words,

“I just, I don’t know why but this feels so right. Even though it’s a sin.”

Graves sighed,

“I think you need to decide what you want for yourself. Do you want to live your life by the rules your religion tells you, or do you want to make your own choices?”

His other hand was stroking over Credence’s hip, pressing against his skin beneath his robe, and he suddenly just wanted skin on skin contact, consequences be damned, even if he was too.

“Yes. I choose you.”

Graves smiled, and leaned in to kiss him again, and Credence let his eyes fall shut, and savored the moment.

The kiss deepened as Graves ran his tongue along the seam of Credence’s lips and he parted them to allow him entrance, and he groaned when he tasted the mint of his cigarettes and the lingering sweetness of the wine they had shared.

“Do you want to-“ Graves broke off the kiss to whisper, interrupting himself to kiss down Credence’s neck, and when his teeth worried over his skin he nearly jumped, feeling sparks dancing along his spine, and something forbidden coming to life in his stomach.

“Yes, yes, anything.”

Graves’ hand found one of his, and he pulled him along, dragging him deeper into sin, but closer to him. It was where he belonged, he supposed.

Inside the man’s bedroom, Credence let him take off his robes, gently loosen the tie in his hair, letting it fall free to graze over the tops of his shoulders, and the reverence he saw in the man’s eyes was as real as any prayer. He let the man nudge him back, still stalking, still chasing, until he felt the edge of the bed at the back of his legs.

Graves’ hands glided over his newly bared skin and he looked up at Credence like he was a lone oasis in a vast desert, having fallen to his knees before him, Graves spoke with hushed awe,

“You can be my savior, and I’ll be your sinner.”

Credence nodded wordlessly, and reached out to caress Graves’ face, feeling the heat of his skin seeping into his palm, and his body responded accordingly, and he didn’t try to hold back, didn’t bury the feelings, he embraced them.

Graves put his hand on his cock, heavy with arousal and aching to be touched, and Credence gasped aloud.

“Am I the first?”

Credence blinked down at him, unable to form words, and he could only nod.

Graves just smirked back.

“I’m glad. I want it to be perfect for you. Tell me what you like. Slow or fast, soft or rough?”

His hand wrapped around Credence’s cock completely, thumb slowly stroking over him, as if holding him like a rosary, Credence thought to himself suddenly, before Graves was then swiping a fingertip over the weeping head, ripping a moan from his lips.

“Oh god. Just like that, slow, and soft.”

“Of course. Your first should be delicate.”

Graves leaned down and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the head, and the warm wetness of his tongue was so foreign and yet incredibly pleasurable, Credence couldn’t get enough.

“Please…”

He found himself whispering, and Graves hummed, the vibrations travelling back up his spine, the heat in his abdomen growing, needing to be fanned and allowed to flare to life.

He didn’t even know what he was asking for, but when Graves took him deep into his mouth and he felt himself hit the back of his throat he thought maybe he could taste white light, as the man’s hand tightened around the base of his cock and his tongue was rubbing against the underside of the head.

It didn’t even take more than a couple minutes for the white light to blind him, and he gasped when Graves didn’t even pull away, he just kept sucking and stroking and only stopped when it became nearly painful, and Credence was begging for him to.

“How are you feeling _Father_?”

Credence had collapsed back onto the man’s bed and wasn’t really capable of speech yet, so he just gave a shaky handed thumbs up.

Graves was still touching him, as if unable to really stop, one hand stroking along his sides, not quite tickling his ribs, the other on his face, brushing back sweat dampened hair from out of his eyes, moving his thumb to press over his lip and his fingers grasped at his jaw, before Credence felt him press a kiss where his thumb had been.

“You looked so gorgeous when you came. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

Graves was saying, in a low crooning sort of murmur that could have been appropriate for prayer.

When Credence could finally speak, it was only to ask one thing,

“Can I do that to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also title drop from the graphic ayyyyy


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Graves couldn’t quite believe it. The innocent priest was such a quick learner, as he watched the younger man start to undress him he started to wonder, what if he _stayed_?

What if he never put the collar back on?

What if…?

“Does that feel good?”

He was asking Graves, looking up at him, eyes wide, lips slightly swollen from kissing and cheeks flushed from his first orgasm, and he nodded.

“Anything you do will be good.”

He was unsure, hesitant in all his movements, but his hands were soft and light like butterfly wings on Graves’ body, tracing over the fitted white shirt, lifting slowly from his waist, and Graves helped him tug it off and toss it away, so that Credence could return his hands to his stomach, and start to push past his lounge pants, dipping below the waistband to press his hand against Graves’ cock.

“Oh. Wow.”

Graves couldn’t hold back a smirk,

“What?”

Credence flicked his eyes up at Graves, and his face seemed to get a bit pinker,

“It’s just, so big. Like, I don’t know if it will fit in…”

He trailed off, unconsciously licking his lips, and Graves was instantly aware again of how inexperienced the younger man was,

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to. I’m perfectly happy with you just touching me with your hands.”

Credence did just that, quite well, for a few moments, and then he moved back to let Graves finish pushing off his pants, leaving them both naked on his bed.

It was a special kind of torture, watching Credence sprawled beside him, half on top of him, holding him with a palm pressed to his upper back, between his shoulder blades, where he supposed he should have had angel wings, had they not been clipped away already when he’d fallen to earth, because where else could someone like him have come from?

“Can I taste you now?”

Credence whispered suddenly, and Graves looked over at him, whilst cocking a brow,

“Do you want to?”

Credence just nodded, shifting his body down his body, before he grazed his mouth over the side of Graves’ cock, one hand still slowly stroking up and down his length.

“Please.”

Graves refused to close his eyes, almost unable to look away, so instead Credence closed his own, as if he was in prayer, as he put Graves’ cock between his lips, with nothing but pure bliss on his face.

 The second Graves felt Credence’s tongue press on his slit, he let out a groan.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but if I have to go to hell for this, it’ll be worth it.”

Credence didn’t answer with words, but instead swallowed around him, and took him as deep as he could, breathing slow, careful, and clearly trying not to choke.

Graves wanted to pull him back, tell him to stop, to take his time, but when his hands moved to wind through Credence’s hair, he couldn’t remember why.

If it was a sin to love a man of god, then he was happy to drown in it.

*

Credence let Graves press him back against the bed, after he’d come down his throat and he decided the taste was far better than any communion he ever had taken, he wondered what would happen next.

“You look like you’re thinking… very… hard.”

Graves murmured, kissing the side of his neck, nipping it with his teeth, before laving over the spot with his tongue, and Credence couldn’t help squirming underneath him.

“I’m just, I’ve never done this before. What else can _we_ do? I mean, it’s not like with a man and a woman.”

Graves chuckled, voice low and almost like a growl against Credence’s skin,

“No not exactly, that is true. But I don’t want you to try and run before you walk. I mean, much as the idea of fucking you appeals to me, I think we should slow it down.”

Credence couldn’t explain the shiver that crawled down his spine and seemed to curl at the base of it, flaring outward like he’d swallowed a lightning bolt.

“You can do that?”

He sounded shocked, he knew it.

Graves nodded, moving to pay equal attention to the other side of his neck and down to his collarbone,

“Oh yes. It’s quite nice once you get used to it. I imagine that you, being as virginal as you are, you probably have no idea of the mechanics.”

Credence was blushing again, and Graves could feel the heat spreading over his skin,

“No, I don’t. I know it’s supposed to be wrong, shameful.”

Graves’ hand tightened on his hip,

“Nothing we do here is wrong. What we’ve done today has felt good right?” He felt Credence nodding, and continued, “You said you were going to do what you wanted, remember? I should like to think that includes me.”

Credence simply hummed in reply when Graves moved down to start kissing down his chest, tongue swirling around one of his nipples, and his palm was splayed over his stomach, feeling as he breathed faster, and he could also feel the younger man’s cock beginning to stir under him.

All of the reasons why he should go slow, and they shouldn’t rush into anything started to fall out of Graves’ mind the more he worked Credence up, sliding down his body, hands bringing his legs onto his shoulders, so that he could press a few kisses to his inner thighs, dancing around where he knew the younger man wanted him to touch.

When he finally moved his mouth closer, instead of just putting his lips and tongue to Credence’s cock, he brought one hand to dip lower, grazing over Credence’s balls, and just barely putting a finger over his puckered hole.

Credence jumped, and Graves couldn’t resist a smirk,

“No one has ever touched you here…”

“Oh god no, of course not…why…”

Massaging one finger around the tight muscle, he put his mouth on Credence’s cock, trying to help him relax by distracting him.

“Because _Father_ , that is how I would fuck you.”

Credence groaned, and leaned his head back, arching up and practically pushing his cock further into Graves’ face,

“Please don’t call me that. I don’t deserve that title. Call me something else.”

Graves chuckled against him, mouthing on his cock, just shy of putting him all the way into his mouth,

“What should I call you, my beautiful boy? My good boy? Or maybe what you are, my dirty little whore?”

Credence whimpered at that, and the sound sent a jolt of arousal straight to Graves’ own cock,

“Oh, you like that do you?”

He was nodding and Graves withdrew his hand from behind Credence’s balls, and began to stroke his cock in earnest, while he kept his other hand holding his leg up on his shoulder, so that he had the best angle to guide Credence’s cock into his mouth, but he didn’t keep it there long, just until he started writhing around, acting like he was getting close.

A frustrated moan left his mouth, and Graves continued to stroke him, but didn’t touch him anymore than that.

“Is there something you want to say?”

“Please, will you try?”

Graves rubbed his thumb against Credence’s calf on his shoulder,

“Please, what?”

He saw Credence’s throat move, and he blinked over at him,

“Mister Graves…”

He shook his head,

“No, no, not that formal. Call me sir.”

Credence’s eyes seemed to widen and he knew he understood.

“Okay. Please sir, can you try?”

Graves clicked his tongue against his teeth, and drew a line up the side of Credence’s cock, making him jerk against his hand,

“What does my little whore need me to try?”

“Ummm, try and fuck me? Maybe a little?”

Graves hummed low in his throat, and tried to keep his breathing even, while his heart thundered in his ears.

“You’re a greedy little thing aren’t you?”

He brought his thumb and forefinger together around Credence’s cock and pushed down his shaft and brought his hand up once, and Credence writhed beautifully for him,

“Yes, yes I am for you sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *skyfall starts to play*

Graves didn’t fuck him that afternoon.

He told Credence he could, the next time, but it meant waiting a week for him, for he would not see him outside church, and oh, the thought of even returning there, wearing his robes proper and trying to meet the gaze of the other priests.

But how could he quit?

He could say he’d found a new parish, a new place that God had called him to.

Leaving it up to God seemed the best idea, but when he walked into church the next Sunday, and found Graves there, as usual, sitting front row, but not wearing a suit like he tended to, he nearly tripped on his robes.

He had almost not expected to see him, but he suspected he could hardly stay away, how else would he be able to contact him but for borrowing the information of the parishioners again and to call him.

It would be an abuse of his power, he knew.

Graves moved first, and followed him, none too stealthily to Credence’s eye, but the rest of the parish didn’t notice. He was always paranoid.

He stepped into the closest booth he came to, but just before he could pull the door shut behind him, he felt a hand on his elbow, and was being guided further inside, forced to sit down, only to find Graves himself upon him.

The room inside one side of the booth was barely enough for him to remain standing, and Credence could only stare up at him, agape, and more than mildly aroused.

“Did you miss me?”

Graves was saying, one hand caressing Credence’s face, and he leaned into it, cheek pressing to his palm, aching for more of a touch, burning inside, knowing how wrong it all was.

“Yes.”

“I want you to listen to me confess my sins, will you, Father?”

Credence didn’t even protest at the return of his title, but he was confused about one thing.

“Where will you talk to me? You’re on my side of the booth…”

Graves’ hand moved to grasp his jaw, and Graves shrunk down, falling to a knee before him, before leaning in to press a swift kiss to his mouth, stealing anything else he might have said.

When Credence pulled back to draw breath, Graves was already speaking,

“Let me sit there, and I’ll do the talking. You can take my place, and put your own mouth to good use, be my good little whore?”

The switch in position wasn’t what made Credence speechless, it was the fact he was being ordered around like he had been in Graves’ bedroom, but inside the church walls.

His knees might have been screaming at him from pressing on the hard wood floor of the booth, but he could only hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, prepared at any moment to be caught, Graves’ cock between his lips and in his hands, with Graves speaking of the activities they’d done the week before, his own hands carded in his hair, holding him so close he could scarcely breathe.

*

Graves could vaguely hear the whispers through the walls, the confessions of the other members, from their lips to God’s ears, hopefully. Meanwhile, his sweet little priest was performing admirably, nearly edging him close to coming within a handful of minutes, just by being so good and quiet, sucking deep and stroking him with a tight grip.

Almost as if he was in a hurry, not wanting to get caught.

How delightful.

“I’ve been consorting with a man of the cloth. Stolen his virginity almost. I wonder, how can I redeem myself from that?”

Graves brought a hand down from Credence’s hair and smoothed his fingers over his brow,

“Don’t worry so much my boy. I can be very quiet.”

Still not a word, as Credence was nearly choking himself on his cock, and the second he locked eyes with him, he flicked his tongue against the underside, and Graves nearly moaned aloud, breaking his word.

“Make me come, go on, be my good boy.”

Credence closed his eyes, and swallowed around Graves’ cock, hand tightening, still holding off his orgasm, but when he pulled back, and Graves felt his tongue swirling over the tip, he lost his already fragile control, and bit the back of his hand as he came, trying to ensure they would not be discovered.

Credence’s hands shifted to grasp at his thighs, sliding back to sit on his heels, and he licked his lips, pink and rather swollen, eyes wide, and innocent,

“Was it good for you, sir?”

Graves looked at him, and he couldn’t hold back a smirk,

“Very good. I think you have been in the wrong line of work.”

Credence was blushing at that, and when he moved up to be closer, hands fumbling over Graves’ pants to put away his softened cock, he spoke in a quiet rasp,

“I still don’t know what I’ll do, without this place, I have nothing.”

Graves clicked his tongue, and brought a hand to touch his face again,

“Oh no, no Credence. Don’t say that. You have me. Anything you need. Ask me.”

Just before his sweet and corrupted priest met his lips for a kiss, he smiled like he’d been offered the world,

“I have you, so all I want is you.”

The way Credence matched his kiss, with hunger and desperate passion, told him all he needed to know.

It was time to take him home, under the guise of Credence just walking him, a still new parishioner, to his car. But he didn’t leave to go back to the church; he climbed inside the black coupe, and let Graves put his hand on his cock the whole drive back.

“Are you going to fuck me today?”

Graves looked over at him, standing as he was in the middle of his living room, hands clasped in front of his chest, as if in prayer, dark eyes locked with his.

“Oh you have no idea.”

The cat and mouse game was technically finished, he’d won, he’d caught Credence, but it didn’t mean he didn’t like the way the younger man watched him as he approached, retreating only slightly, before Graves put his hand on his upper arm and dragged him into his chest, pressing a fierce kiss to the priest’s mouth.

Credence’s lips parted beneath his, and instead of pushing his tongue between them, he took his bottom lip between his teeth and bit at it gently.

He whimpered so sweetly, Graves decided maybe he liked the roughness.

Once in the bedroom, his hands just sort of took on a mind of their own, pulling off and tossing away the robe and his underwear and roaming all over the exposed skin, while Credence’s own hands fumbled with his leather jacket, and his jeans.

“I want you to hurt me. Break me. If we going to sin, let’s really do it.”

Graves thought maybe he was imagining, projecting, and when Credence nuzzled his cheek against his chest, and begged him with a _please_ that might have been right out of his most recent fantasy, he growled aloud and flipped the younger man over onto his back,

“What did you just say?”

Credence blinked up at him, hair splayed on the bed, like a dark halo,

“It’s more arousing for me, when you pulled on my hair, when you weren’t gentle. I think if you did more, it would feel even better… I don’t know though, maybe it’s too weird…”

His eyes skittered down and away from Graves, and he leaned in to press a quick kiss to his forehead,

“Not at all baby. It’s just surprising, you knowing so much about yourself, so soon. But I love it.”

He skipped right over touching Credence’s cock again, and slid his fingers down to dance over his balls, and graze by his puckered hole, making the younger man jump.

“How does it work?”

He breathed aloud, and Graves smirked,

“Well, we don’t just jump into it. I’m going to open you up with a finger, or two, or three, and then I’m gonna make you come, make sure you’re relaxed enough.”

He could feel Credence shudder beneath him as he started to just massage around the tense muscle,

“Okay.”

He moved back and took off the rest of his clothes, while retrieving the small tube of lubricant from his bedside table, and two packets of condoms just in case, returning to find Credence lounging on his bed, hand playing with his own cock, as if absentmindedly.

“Miss me?”

“Always.”

*

Credence was holding his breath as Graves put his mouth on him, and started to sucking on his cock, lips and tongue working him over, nearly pushing him towards the edge in under a minute. It hadn’t even been that long, but since he’d gotten on his knees for the man in his church, he supposed he’d been needing a release of his own badly enough.

“Are you ready?”

Graves let him go with his mouth, and continued to just stroke him with his hand, fingers smoothly gliding on his skin thanks to the clear gel he’d applied, and it warmed with his touch.

“Okay.”

He’d been expecting it, but it was still a surprise when one of Graves’ fingers breached his ass, and he could hear him sort of crooning,

“It’s all right, just relax.”

With the pleasure of his hand on his cock and the slight pain from his other hand; Credence found it was almost perfect.

He hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted to be hurt. It was something he’d learned he liked when he’d been younger. He thought it was simply the devil trying to destroy him, but it appeared not everything he’d been told was true.

In fact, almost nothing was.

But he wanted more.

He wanted Graves to push inside him, fuck him, and he wanted to watch the man as he came.

Luckily, that wasn’t far off, as the silky touch of Graves’ hand on his cock brought him to orgasm within a handful of minutes, he was next.

“You are really something else, you know that?”

Graves was telling him, kneeling but closer, fully prepared to kiss him as he pressed his cock against Credence’s hole, having indeed worked him up with three fingers at the end.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you…?”

Credence bit his lip, feeling the tip of Graves’ cock slid inside of him,

“Sir… thank you sir.”

“Mmm, good boy.”

Graves groaned aloud before putting a hand under Credence’s back, bringing him up to kiss him, open mouthed and sloppy, as if he was being just as undone from it all as Credence was.

Every time Graves moved against him, pulling out and pushing back in, he could feel the slight burn of pain lessening, and he didn’t know why, but he almost wished it wouldn’t.

He could hear Graves’ breathing catching in his chest, and his movements stuttered, even as he felt a hand on his cock, he moaned, wondering how it could be something like this made him feel so close to godly.

“Are you gonna come for me again?”

Graves was asking, lips at his ear, before grazing down his jaw, his neck, and he was marking him, biting and kissing and Credence was gone, lost in the haze of blissful pain and happiness.

“Yes, yes, yes _sir_.”

“Fuck…you feel so good on my cock.”

The filthy words came to Credence through a fog, and he could only smile, lazily and still drowning in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He felt Graves when he pulled out of him for the final time, and when he collapsed on the bed beside him, he reached for his hand, brushing over the man’s sweaty chest in the process, and he wished he had the strength to move, to kiss him again, touch him more, taste him again.

It was the only thing he didn’t like about sex, he decided, not being able to feel Graves’ cock in his mouth, on his tongue, like his own twisted version of Eucharist.

Another time.

He knew it would happen again, and he hoped maybe then, Graves would really give him some more bruises.

He fell asleep with his cheek pressed to Graves’ chest and with his hand in his hair, stroking softly over his forehead, and he thought he heard the man whisper,

“Such a good boy.”

*

**_end_ **


End file.
